


OF , 

NEW AMSTERDAM, 

A DRAMA IN 5 ACTS 



HENRY^FUEHRER. 



1. Refused. 

2. A Successful Lover. 

3. The Murder. 

4. The Arrest. 

5. Arducted. 

6. In Prison. 

7. Among the Indians. X 

8. Virtue is He warded. ' ' 



BROOKLYN, N. Y. : 

Jftcob F. Becker, Printer. 149 Scholes Street. 
1882. 



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■4 



r 



r 



m.TTy O^T 



NEW AMSTERDAM, 

A DRAMA IN 5 ACTS 

7 



HENRY FUEHRER. 



4 



1. Refused. 

2. A Successful Lover. 

3. The Murder. 

4. The Arrest. 

5. Abducted. 

6. Ix Prison. 

7. Among the K^diaxs. 

8. Virtue is Rewarded. 



FEB .Viili^*^ 



BROOKLYN, N. Y. : ~-^^iyi5f_^^-^^' 

Jacob F. Becker, Printer. 149 Scpoles Stieet. 
1882. 



6 



PERSONS REPRESENTED: 

XTlrick Yax Zandt, an inn -keeper. 

LiLLiE, his daughter. 

Miss Shreutendeock, his housekeeper. 

Zachakiah Stevenson, a retired merchant. 

Bernard, his son. 

Harry Dare, a fisherman. 

John Tinker, his mate. 

KiTTiE, servant of Van Zandt. 

Arnoux, a viUain. 

Tom, the prison keeper. 

Kapahoe, an Indian. 

Dan, a sailor. 

Four Citizens. 

Two Constabh^s. 

Citizens, Sailors, Indians, &c., &g. 

Scene of action: New Amsterdam and Elizabethtown. 

Time : 1664. 



THP96-0 06417 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1881, by Hbhry Fitkhker, in 
the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



ACT T. 

Front of Yun ZandCi^ inn. On the left side of the 
stage is a suminerhouse, decked with shrubberi/ and con- 
taining a table and a bench. On the right side in front 
of the inn a table and chairs. 

Scene I. Kittie [sweeping in front of the inn.) It's 
going to be a fine day; perliaps Jolm will come to town. 
John is my beau, you must know, and oh ! I love him so ! 

Scene II. John [steals up from behind and holds his 
hand to KittieJ's eyes.) 

Kittie. {gives a little scream.) 

John. Guess, wdio it is ? 

Kittie. As if I did not know your voice; it's John, 

John, {^releasing her eyes and taking her hand.) Yes, it 
is John. And do you still love your Johnny with all 
your heart? 

Kittie. Indeed I do, although you certainly do not 
deserve it. For here you haven't been down to see me 
these eight days and never a word did I hear from you. 

Joh)i.. But my master has not been to see his beloved 
either for that length of time and I am sure he loves his 
Lillie as well as I love you. 

Kittle. Pst ! Silly boy ! How can you speak of your 
master's affairs and those of our young lady in such a 
free and easy manner. He certainly did not tell yoii, 
that he loves Miss Lillie. 

John. Oh, no. But then, there are unmistakable signs 
and don't I know them by heart? [embracing Kittie) 
Why, I know how it is myself ! [tries to kiss Kittie.) 

Kittie. Oh, you naughty fellow ! 

John [again attenipting to kiss Kittle^ who offers but 
little resistence) It's naught}^, but it's nice, oh, so nice ! 
(kisses Kittie.) 

Kittie. Now stop; it's enough ! 

John. Is it? I would rather have a little more. 

Kittie. You had better go about your business now 
and let me attend to mine. 



John. Ah, that reminds me of something. You see 
Kittie, I had a long row and a good walk this morning, 
and while my boat was skipping over the placid waters 
of tlie river, and while I was walking from the shore up 
here, I was constantly thinking of something. 

Jxittie. You were thinking of me, wasn't you, dear? 

Joh)i. Of you ? No. I was thinking of the tooth- 
>some pancakes I would eat after I got here. 

Katie. Pshaw! how prosaic ! 

John. Prosaic? Well, that may be; but I will enjoy 
them nevertheless. And after I have had my breakfast, 
I will think of you again. 

Kittie. V'ery well, dear. I will fetch you some pan- 
cakes out here. 
, John. You will see how quickly they will disappear. 

Kittle. All right, {starts to c/o.) 

John. And Kittie, bring me a nice cup of coffee too. 

Kittle. All right, {starts to go.) 

John . And Kittie, bring me some molasses too, please? 

Kittle {turns back.) And, Jolmny Tinker, don't you 
want some reddishes and some champaign and some 
roast duck too? 

John. Well, yes. I shouldn't mind, if it is no 
trouble to you. 

Kittle {sarcasticaUy.) Oh no, no trouble at all to l)ring 
out the whole kitchen, {exit Into inn.) 

JohiK [looks after Kittle) A splendid girl is Kittie 
and some day^not too far distant I hope — I Avill make 
her Mrs. John Tinker. Wouldn't that be nice? 



S<'-ene III. JJlriek Yan Zandt {enters from inn yavn- 
iny) 11 oa! Hoa ! Good morning, sir. 

John. Good morning, mine host ! 

Ulrh'k. You're out early, young man. How is your 
master ? 

John. 

Ulrick. 

John 



He is well, thank you. God preserve him ! 
You seem to be greatly attached to him. 
I love him dearly, as I would love a brother, 
if I had one. 

Ulrick. But he is an Indian, is he not? 
John. He an Indian ? Well, I guess not. But if he 
was, I would love him all the same. 

Vlrick. Come, now; isn't he a full-blooded Indian? 

./ohn. He is a man and you can't find his equal in all 

New Netherlands. As for liis being^ an Indian — I know 



he is not, altlioiigli he was brought up right in tlie midst 
of an Indian tribe. He is a direct descendent of the 
first child born of English parents on the American con- 
tinent. His grandmother's name was Virginia Dare and 
she was of pure English stock. Of course, his long as- 
sociation with the Indian tribes has left its impress upon 
his outward form. All that is excellent in the character 
of the Indian maj' be found in his, and withal there is 
not a truer man, a more devout Christian or a better 
citizen in all the towns from New Amsterdam to the 
Virginian settlements. 

Z^lrlck. Why, young man, you grow quite enthusi- 
astic in his praise. I must cultivate your excellent mas- 
ter's acquaintance. But how did you fall in with hira ? 

John. Ah, the recollection of it ever swells my heart 
with gratitude towards him, the preserver of my life. 

Ulriek. The preserver of your life ? Tell me how it 
happened. 

Joh)i. {((ccompruiied by sioeet music from, the orchestixf) 
It was on the day after my arrival here from the English 
settlement. Being a fisherman by trade, I came here 
with the intention of plying my trade in these waters, 
which for their splendid fisheries were known, as far as 
Cape Henlopen. But not being acquainted with ,the 
many eddies of the waters surrounding the islands at 
the entrance to the sound, my boat became almost un- 
manageable. A sudden gust of wind upset it and I 
found myself in the water right on the edge of a terrible 
whirlpool. Though a good swimmer, I felt myself ir- 
resistibly drawn towards the greedy circle. My cries 
for help were heard by other fishermen — but no one 
dared, to come to my assistance — except one ! 

Ulriek. And that was he y 

John. Indeed it was. Regardless of the danger his 
boat shot out from the rest, right up to where I was 
struggling with the seething waters. In a moment he 
had me in his boat, and with a few powerful strokes of 
the oar, his boat shot out of danger and I was saved ! 

Ulriek. A daring deed. 

John. And one I shall remember to my grave. 

Scene IV. Kittie. (enters irith various edibles) Oh, 
there's my master. 

John. Come, come lassie^^my appetite is strong, I 
was impatiently waiting for you. 



6 



Kittle . ^placing edibles on the table) I hope you will 
liketllem. I made tliem myself. 

John, {falls to) 

Xlirick. Indeed, that smells inviting. Kittie, my 
dear, fix me some of these pancakes too. 

Kittie. Your breakfast, sir, is ready in the dining- 
room. 

[Tlrich. Bring it out here, girl. If you have no ob- 
jectidn, sir, I will keep you company. 

John. Not the slightest. I rather prefer to take my 
nleals in company. [Exit Kittie.) 

Ulrick. You s^em to be blessed Avith a splendid a])- 
petite ? 

John. And so I am. {always eating.) My work is 
hard, and he who works hard ought to eat heartily. 

Scene V. Kittie {return.^ itnth ljlriek''s hreakfast.) 
There is your breakfast, sir. {Keit Kittie.) 

ITlrick. {falling to) I am almost famished. 

John, [finishing] I must go and meet my master now. 
Perhaps both of us will pay you a visit later in the day. 

lUrick. Both of you are always welcome. [Exit John) 

Yes, they are good fellows, both of them. I am really 
sorry they don't come often er. I have no doubt this 
young fellow has his eye on that little minx Kittie. 
W'ell, Kittie is a diligent, good little creature and she 
can cook^it's a caution, I tell you. He won't make such 
a l)ad bargain when lie gets her for his wife. 

/Scene YI. Enter Zacliariah Stevenson and Bernard.^ 
his son. 

Stevenson. Good morning to thee, neighbor. 

Bernard. Good morning, sir. 

JJlriGk. {receiving them courteouslg.) Well, this is 
an unexpected pleasure. Gentlemen, what can I do for 
you ? I have some excellent apple-jack in my cellar. 

Stevenson. Neighbor, friend. We did not come to fall 

victims to thine temptations in the form of spirits. I 

came here with my son, Bernard, to speak to thee of a 

friendly family affair, dost thou understand, my friend? 

Ulrick. A family affair? Well sir, speak. 

■Stevenson. My dear boy Bernard has arrived at that 
age, when he should no longer remain alone, but when 
a helpmate ought to adorn his household. Dost thou 
understand, my friend ? I pressed him to take to his 
bosom a wife, and he confessed to me, that he had fallen 



ill love with thy daughter. Dost thou understand, my 
friend ? 

Ulrl('h. (afifo/ilshsd) With my dauo-hter? With my 
Lillie? 

IStevenso)i. Even so. I should have preferred some 
one else to the daughter of one who deals in intoxicating 
liquors— booooh ! — but my son insisted, and so I con- 
sented to come with him and arrange the matter and fix 
the day. Dost thou understand, my friend ? 

TJlrick. I understand fully. But how do you know, 
that my daughter will be willing to take your son ? 

/Sferejiso/i. [smyrlsed) Wha-what ? Your daughter — 
take my son — . Well, well, is it possible? — I never 
thought of that. 

Ulrlck. She ought to have something to say in the 
matter — dost thou understand — my friend ? 

iSterenson. Yes, j^es, of course. Forms must be ob- 
served. Thou perceivest, my friend, that ray dear boy is 
a good-looking lad and a good lad too. He is my only 
son and when I die, he inherits all I have — ^mind you, 
before I die he gets nothing, but after I die, he gets all 
I have, dost thou understand, my friend ? 

Ulrlck. Well, my daughter is not penniless either. 
She too is my only child, and if she consents to take a 
good man for her husband, I wouldn't object to his 
taking charge of my business at once, provided I would 
have a home in this house as long as I live. 

Stevenson. Very well, my friend. Let me speak to 
thy daughter. 

Bernard. No, father. I have humored you so far. 
But I can s])eak to Lillie myself. 

Stevenson. See, see, the bold boy. Thou hadst better 
let me advocate thy cause, young man. Oh, I have great 
influence over the female portion of the community, and 
none of them can resist my arguments, dost thou under- 
stand, my friend ? 

Ulrlck. Your son is right. In such matters a young 
man ought to speak for himself. My daughter will be 
down presently and then you can press your suit. 

Scene VII. Enter Miss Shrentendrock, Van Zandfs 
housektt^per. 

Ulrlck. Miss Shreudendrock — has my daughter risen ? 
Miss S. Slie has, and will be down presently. 

I Irlck. Will vou have the kindness to conduct Mr. 



Stevenson to tlie parlor and entertain liim there for a 
little while ? 

J/i'-ts jS. immodestly) I — entertain a gentleman? oh, sir ! 

Xllrick. You know Mr. Stevenson, do you not? He 
is our next-door neighbor; {introducing) Mr. Stevenson. 

Menenson. Zachariah Stevenson, Esq., at thy service. 

UlrioJc. Miss Caroline Shreutendrock, my housekeeper. 
,, .Miss B. I am happy, sir, to make your acquaintance — 
but I am afraid, I shall not be capable of entertaining 
you as I should. Oh, sir, I am so modest. 

Stevenson. Fear not, I will entertain thee then. Dost 
thou understand, my friend ? I will speak to thee of the 
time, when my own beloved Amarintha, (she, was my 
wife) was still living, and when my dear boy Bernard 
Avas still a prattling babe — dost thou understand, my 
friend? 
.{-.Miss-S. A baby — oh sir, you shock my modesty ! 

Stevenson. Why, my dear woman, thou wert a baby 
thyself ouce. Come, lead me to the parlor. I will in- 
struct thee in real modesty, for I see thou art sadly 
wanting in the quality of which thou wouldst brag. 
Dost thou understand, my friend ? 

J^.rit Miss S. and Stevenson. 

ZJ^lrick. {to 13ernard) And I will send my daughter 
down to you directly, sir. [Exit.) 

Bernard. Thanks, {alone) At last the hour for which 
I have so ardently hoped, has arrived. Does she love 
me ? I do not know. It was impossible to approach her. 
But of one thing I am convinced: she loves no one else. 
How I tremble. If my friend Aynoux could see me now, 
vi-Ouldn't lie laugh at my expense ? We have robbed and 
killed together, we have faced a thousand dangers to- 
gether without flinching, and now I stand here like a 
trembling schoolboy, at the prospect of asking a timid 
girl for her hand. The girl is a treasure. Bad as I 
have been, I think with that girl for my wife I will be- 
come a better man. 

Seene^^III. Enter JJlUe froni the house. 

LiUie. Good morning, sir. Papa told me that you 
Avished to see me. 

Bernard, [bowing low; aside) How beautiful she is ! 
[to. Lillie) Miss Van Zandt — you will hardly recollect me. 

J^illie. I do sir. You are our next door neighbor, 
Mr. Stevenson. 



Bernard. I feel liigHly flattered to be known to you. 

lAllie. You have taken great pains not to let me for- 
get the fact, for you will remember, that you have 
greatly annoyed me lately by following me wherever I 
went, by staring at me continually at church and else- 
where. I could hardly explain your strange conduct. 

Jiernard. I have come to explain and apologize. 

ZiiUle. No apology is necessary, sir, if you will only 
cease your annoying attentions. 

Bernard {chagrhied) Anwojing'i 

Lillie. To a high degree, sir. 

BeDiard. Miss Van Zandt — I regret deeply, that my 
conduct has displeased you. But I came here to-day to 
pay you the highest compliment, which a man can pay 
to a lady — I came to ask for your hand in marriage. 

JAllie. I was prepared for this declaration on your 
part — I do not wish to pain you— but — it can never be. 

Bernard. Never — never — why not ? 

Lillie. {firmly) Because I do not love you. 

Bernard, [aside) The devil ! {to Lillie) Miss Van 
Zandt, pardon me. I have taken you by surprise. I 
should have asked you first for permission to visit your 
family — I should have cultivated your acquaintance and 
afterwards, when you had learned to love me, pressed 
my suit. Oh, I was too hasty — pardon me ! 

IJllie. It would have made no difference, Mr. Steven- 
son. I could never love you. 

Bernard, [in great excitement) Oh, then you love 
some one else ! — 

lAllie. Be it so, if you will have it. 

Bernard, {losing all coohtess) Who is it ? Ha ! Tell 
me the name of the villain ! 

Lillie. {pointedly) I will not tell you the name of 
the VILLAIN, sir ! 

Bernard. Ha ! I will find him. Let him beware of 
my revenge I 

LAllie. I will listen to you no longer, sir. Adieu. 
{turns to go.) 

Bernard, {aside) Damn it ! I have spoiled all, through 
my rashness ! {to LAllie) Miss Van Zandt — Lillie — I was 
rash — thoughtless, pardon me. I did not mean what I 
said— oh, how can 1 make reparation ? 

Lillie. By acting like a gentleman in the future, {exit) 

Bernard, [in a rage) Ha ! Refused ! Refused ! She 
loves some one else. I will find out who it is and tear 



10 

his heart out. If she had yielded to my suit, I woukl 
have striven hard to be a better man. Now I will be as 
heartless as a tiger. My revenge will be as cruel as 
death. Yes, I Avill humble her, the jade — kneeling be- 
fore me in the dust she shall beg of me the privilege of 
becoming my wife. Then I will treat her as she spurned 
Ine now. lla ! I will push her from me with my foot, 
abandon her to desperation and dishonor ! 

Scene IJl. Miter ZTlrich. 

JJiriek. Alone ! Well, what success did you have ! 

Bernard. Ah, it's you ? Success ? Hahaha ! She has 
refused me — hahahaha ! [e-x-it qnicMy.) 

XJlriGk. [alone?) Well, I expected that. I would not 
have him myself, if I was a young girl. And just now 
he had a look in his eye, that niade me shiver all over. 

Scene Jl. Enter Stevenson and Miss Shreiitendrock. 

Stevenson. Well, have the two children settled the 
thing between them ? 

Jflrick. (aside) They have settled it, but not the 
way you expect. 

■Stevenson. And when will the happy day be — dost 
thou understand my friend ? 

Ulrick. Never. 

Stevenson. What? Dost thou mean to tell me, that 
my son, w?,^y son has been refused by thy daughter? 

Ulrick. Alas, it's a fact. 

Stemnson. This is astonishing. 

3Iiss S. Well I never. And such a nice-looking 
young man too. Why, I would have taken him myself, 
if he had only asked me. 

Stevenson. Then I will go. I will remain no longer 
on the premises, where my son has been insulted. I go. 
God speed thee. Miss Bulenwhack. 

Miss S. Shreutendrock, if you please, kind sir. 
(G-U7'tesymg .) ■ 

I Stevenson, [to Ulrick) As for thee and thy daughter 
(■snaps his fingers) Dost thou understand my friend ? 
(exit.) 

■■.■■■■Miss S. Oh, isn't he a nice man? — So kind, so pious 
and so eloquent ! 

Ulrick. But what did he mean by snapping his fin- 
gers ? If I thought he meant to insult me or my daugh- 
tei-— why, I M^ould break every bone in his body, (starts 
to folio Id Stevenson.) 



11 

3fiss S. {holds hhn back) Don't sir, don't. You 
frighten me ! 

ITlrick. The lank skeleton. I feel like following 
him and kicking him down his own front stoop, the 
blarsted "dost thou understand, my friend", [exit.) 

Miss S. {(done) Now I don't care, if he is a little 
queer, he is a kind, amiable, well-disposed person. And 
he gave me such good advice to repress my modesty;; 
and in such an insinuating manner too, when he spoke 
about his departed wife, that I actually thought he vv^as 
going to propose to me. And if he had, I really don't 
know what I would have done — there— there is my 
modesty again. Yes, I do know what I would have 
done — I would have said "yes," and if my modesty had 
killed me the next moment. The trouble is: nobody 
ever proposed to me yet — they know, I am too modest, 
,too modest altogether, (exit.) 

Change of Scene. 

Scene JCT. Garden and W>ods behind J^an Zandfs 
inn. ZTlrich and IJllie enter. 

JJlrick. Now, my dear Lillie. I found no opportuni- 
ty yet to-day to speak to yon about this Bernard Steven- 
son and his proposal. 

Lillie. There is time enough now, father. 

ZTlrick. You know, I am a matter of fact man. Don't 
liesitate to tell me all. Why did you refuse him, child ? 

Lillie. Because I do not love him, father, and be- 
cause — he is not a good man. 

Ulrick. Not a good man ? How do you know ? Did 
he do anything dishonorable? 

Lillie. God has stamped his character upon his face. 
But his conduct to-day has amply A^eritied my suspicion. 
After I refused him, his passion overmastered him, and 
he indulged in language which no honest man would 
use. Now I know that he is a villain. 

Ulrick. Then God be thanked, that you did not ac- 
cept him. You see, his father is rich ; he is not a bad- 
looking young man, and if you had chosen •him for your 
husband, I would have given you my blessing. 

TAllie. I know you love me, father, and you will 
never stand in the way of my happiness. 

Ulrick. Certainly not, my child. Choose whom you 
will. If lie be a man in the true sense of the word, and 
1 know your choice would fall on no other, you and he 
shall have mv bless i no-. 



12 

JJMie. Thank yon, dear father, thank yon. 

Xlh'iek. I will retnrn to the honse now. Follow me 
soon, child, {exit.) 

Lillie. {alone) And yet, dear father, I dare not reveal 
to you the secret of my heart, for fear you would not 
approve of my choice. People say he is an Indian, or 
at least that he has Indian blood in his veins. But I 
care not if he has— he is the hero of my imagination. 
His brow bears the imprint of perfect manliness, his 
heart is good and gentle, his soul the very image of my 
God and I love him, oh, so dearly, so devotedly 1 

Seene XII. Harry Dare, enters through the bushes. 

Harry. Miss Van Zandt, pardon my intrusion. I 
intended to go to your father's inn, and the nearest way 
from the river leads through this part of the garden. 

Lillie. Oh, I am rather glad you came— that is — oh, 
pardon me^I, 1 — {stops in great confusion.) 

Harry, {aside^ What means this confusion? Great 
heavens, is it possible ! Does she return my love ? 

lAlUe. {recovering shnoly) You see, Mr. Dare, former- 
ly you came to our house often er and I did riot feel 
abashed in the least — but now, why, one hardly sees you 
two or three times in a year, and you appear more like 
a stranger, than a friend. 

Harry. A friend ! Ah, how sweet that name sounds 
from your lips. Did you really miss me then '? I thought 
you would never obserA^e my absence. 

Lillie. Oh, how could you ! 

Harry .{resolutely) Miss Van Zandt — I will tell you the 
reason I came to your house less frequently. I thought 
1 would be able to subdue and, if possible, entirely to 
control my passion. But my attempt has been useless. 
No one can control his heart. It is possible that what 
I have to say may wound you deeply. Do not be angry. 
I must speak at last. For after having spoken, I shall 
know at least, that want of courage to speak did not de- 
prive me of the greatest happiness in store for any mortal ! 

Lillie. You frighten me— you — 
i Harry. Nay, Miss Van Zandt, fear not. I have but 
a few words to say to you, and whatever your answer 
may be— I shall never cease to worship the very ground 
you tread on. Lillie — I love you, have loved you since 
I first beheld you ! 

Lillie. Loved me ! 



13 

Harry, {takes her hand) Yos, loved you, adored you 
with all my heart. But do I see aright — you do not 
grow angry at my presumption — do not repel me — allow 
your hand to rest in mine — oh, Lillie — is it possible that 
after all my wildest hopes may be realized ! 

ZilUe. Oh, Harry! 

Harry, [ernhraeing IJlUe rapttiroushf) That name 
from your lips. Oh, confirmation of my fondest wish ! 
But tell me, Lillie, let me hear the sweet words froni 
your own lips, lest I doubt the evidence of my senses. 
Do you really love me ? 

Lillie. Yes, Harry, I do. 

While they speak the last seatenees, sweet musie is 
2)h(yed by the orchestra, growirtg wilder as the scene pro- 
ceeds. Btirnard h((s shown hi nisei f hidden behind some 
shrnbbery. He noto advances and draws his hunting 
knife to stab Harry. Behind Harry and Lillie, John 
appears. TJnperceired by Bernard, he glides behind that 
worthy, grasps the arm with which he holds the knife and 
without a, word bids him go. During this pantomime, 
Harry and JJllie enqar/e in earnest conversation. 

Tableau. 

THE CFRTAIX FALLS. 



ACT IT. 

Square in front of the cou/rt-ho^ise in New Amsterdam. 
Harry Hare and John Tinker stand in. front of the court- 
house, around them are groups of citizens in animated 
eonversation. It is growing dark. 

Scene I. Bernard and Arnou.v enter leading Han, a 
drunken sailor. 

Bernard, {to Han) Xow then, old man, sit down here 
on the steps of the court-house. 

Arnoux. Yes, take a rest. 

Bernard {per ceiving Hafrry) Ha, he is here too. Could 
I but murder him. 

Arnmm. {to Bernard) Don't look so savage; some 
one will observe you. 

Bernard [laughing) Oh yes, I forgot we are not alone. 
{to Han) Well, old fellow, how do you feel now ^ 



14 

I)an. {j.n a'maiidlin voice) Oh, I feel pretty well — 
pretty well. His Highness, the duke of York would 
laugh, if he could see me iu this (hie) condition, wouldn't 
he thoug-h ? 

JBernard. You're all right. Take a nap here and after- 
wards my friend and I will lead you down to the river. 

Dan. {falling asleep) Yes, yes— down to the river — 
down to the river. 

Arnoii,v. Let him lie now till the crowd disperses. 
His belt is well filled with gold. I saw several crowns, 
when he paid for the last drink, (they slink to the rea.r ) 

First Citizen. I tell you, citizens, StuyA-esant had no 
business to surrender to the English Man of war. He 
should have inquired first, whether the citizens were 
willing to surrender. 

Second Citizen. So he should. We want to fight the 
English. 
■■;, All. Yes, we want to fight ! 

Second Citizen. Come, comrades — to arms ! to arms ! 

All. {shoating in disorder) Yes to arms! Come, let us 
fight! 

Harry. Gentlemen, hear me. 

Second Citizen. Hear what Harry lias to say. 

Smne. Yes listen ! 

Harry. Do not be hasty, citizens, lest you make 
yourselves amenable to the law. Stuyvesant, the Go- 
vernor set over you by the Dutch government, has form- 
ally surrendered this province to the Duke of York. 
The English king is now the ruler of this land. Believe 
me, you lose nothing by this change. For what ad- 
vantage was it to you to be citizens of this colony? Did 
you have a voice in any public affair? Could you in any 
wise control the management of the public treasury? 
Oh, no. Your right as citizens amounted to nothing, 
but a mere license to trade. AH this will be different 
under English rule. By your vote you will be entitled 
to take part in the administration of public affairs. You 
will be as free, as sovereign as an Englishman in old 
England. 

.First Citizen.' I have nothing to say against that. 
But why do they take away from our town the name of 
New Amsterdam and call it New York ? {^derisively) 
New York ! bah ! 

H'7'ry. What's in a name? 



15 

Sf^cond Citizen. Yes, why do they change the name 
ot" oiir town, tliat's what I would like to know ! 

Third Citizen. Well, I guess York is right about 
tliat. If I had captured the town, I would change the 
name too. 

Second Citizen, [laughlnf/) And that would be a funny 
name too: New Van Arsdale, hahahaha ! 

All the Citizens ( laugh. ) 

Third Citizen.. Your name wouldn't sound any better. 
Shooting of cannon behind the scenes. 

Harry. The change of government is now complete. 
These salutes thunder fortih to the world the fact, that 
Governor Stuyvesant surrend€*l"s to the Duke of York, 
and that New Amsterdam has become New York. 

F'ourth Citizen {shofit.s) Long live our Governoi", the 
Duke of York ! 

Citizens ishont) Hail, hail, hurrah ! 

Beating of drums, ringing of bells and shooting be- 
hind the scenes. 

John. Now the retinue of the new Governor comes 
up the main streets. 

J^irst Citizen. Will they pass by here ? 

Second Citizen. No; don't you see, tliey turn down 
towards the North River. 

First Citizen. Let us go nearer to the spectacle. 

Citizens. Yes come. Come on. 

All citizens hurry ofi ; It grotos dark. 

John. It is growing late. We ougiit to be on the 
way to our island. 

Hcirry. Keally, it is time Ave should start. Go and put 
our boat in readiness; I will join you in a few minutes. 

John. Do not remain here alone. But a few mo- 
ments ago I saw" Bernard lurking about. He may return 
and take you unaAvares. 

Heirry. I do not fear him; he is a coward. 

John. But a coward strikes from behind. Remember 
the attempt he made in the garden. 

Jlarry. Fear not for me, my friend. I Avill be on 
my guard. 

John. Very well, sir. (e.t'lt.) 

Jlarry. {alone) John is a good boy; he loves me like 
a brother. I intended to go to Van Zandt's inn, before 
turning homew^ard, in the hope of catching a glimpse 
of my sweet Lillie. But for John's sake, to relieve him 
of his anxiety, I will forego that pleasure and follow 



16 



liim straight. What a calm, sweet night it is. How 
kindly the stars twinkle clown upon this beautiful land, 
Avhich has to-day become an English colony ! This 
change of government was a necessary step towards the 
complete liberty of the people of this country. Hence- 
forth English liberty and thought ayIU here be freely 
taught. Unrestrained by territorial limits, with inex- 
haustible resources at their command, the people of this 
land will soon develop liberty and thoughts unparalled 
in history for their grandeur. In my minds eye I see 
this very s])ot the centre of a new civilization, of a na- 
tion l)reathing liberty anj^l noble aspiration. A century 
or two will convert this island, rugged noAV and desolate, 
into a human beehive full of life and animation ! {exit.) 

Scfne II. Enter Bernard <(nd Arnou.v ste/flthiJi/. 
Armmx. He still sleeps. 

Take the money quickly. 
Hold your knife ready in case he should 



Bernard. 
Arnoifx. 
awake. 
Bernard. 
Arnoux. 
Bernard. 
Arnou 



Go on, I am rea<ly. 

He seems uneasy — if he should Avake up — 
Go on, don't spoil the job now. 
{rohi^ Dan) I've got it— quickly come. 

Dan. {avmkes, raises hhnself up and sees the tiro rob- 
bers) I'm robbed — ah, it's you. 

^irnonx. The devil ! — He recognizes us — strike ! 

Dan. {entireli/ sobered, shaking with fear) Voy God's 
sake — don't — don't murder nu^ ! {sinks on his knees.) " 

ArnoHX. [aside to Bernard) Strike quickly, before lie 
has time to cry out. 

Bernard. Yes, poor fellow, Ave will spare you— there, 
take back your money {holding the purse towards Dan 
with his h\ft hand he sitdde)ily stabs Dan with the kntfe.) 

Dan. {falls to the ground with a piereing shriek.) 

Arnoux. The devil ! That shriek — people are com- 
ing — let us fly ! 

Bernard. Fool! (hides the knife) Do you want to put 
our necks into the halter? Wait— let me speak to them. 

Arnoux. Come, before it is loo late. 

Bernrtrd. I haA^e a plan — Harrj^ Dare ! 

Arnoux. (with quiek intelligence) Ha ! 

Hcene III. Stevenson is revealed by the rising 9noon, 
looking at Dan horror-stricken, 
Arnoitx. {pointing at him) See ! 



IT 

Bernard. Powers of licU — my father ! 
Stevenson. Alas ! Alas ! I saM- all ! 

^eene 1 V. Citizens enter. 

J-^irst Citizen. We heard a bloodcurdling cry. ITa, 
what's that ? 

Second Citizen. A foid inurdei- has l)eeii committed 
hei'e. 

Third Citizen. See, he moves — 

J'hnrth Citizen. ()]», horrid spectacle ! 

/></>/. [utteinpts to rise <nul speak, sf(((/</ers and then 
pilU dead. ) 

Bernard. Yes, a deed most foul and terrible has been 
couiuiitted here — a deed which cries for vengeauce swift 
aud awful. jNly friend Aruoux and I came just in time 
to see the iiend, who did this, rifle his victims pockets 
and then fly, as if chased by a hundred devils. 

yirst Citizen. You saw him fly, \\dio was it ? 

Seco}id Citizen. Who was it, speak I 

Citizens, [hi cJiorns) Speak. 

Bernard. Well, it was dark — I could not be certain — 
did you see him plainly, friend Arnoux ? 

ArnoiLC. I saw him pretty plainly, but I might be 
mistaken — don't want to accuse an innocent man — who 
would accuse such an upriglit young man as he, of such 
a terrible crime — 

Jjernard. Yes, yes, you're right. 

J'^lrst Citizen. Whom do you mean, speak. 

Bernard. Well, T do it reluctantly — but if you insist, 
I must tell you — it was Harry Dare. 

First Citizen. Harry Dare? Impossible! 

Second Citizen. It cannot be. 

Bernard. That's what I said to myself. And yet, if I 
can trust these eyes of mine— it was he. i^The orchestra 
plays a so/enin. air.) But [pointing to Stevenson) there 
is one who saw as well as we ! 

Stevenson, i^in great anguish) Oh, my son, oh, my son ! 

First Cltizeji. Who was it, Mr. Stevenson, speak. 

Stevenson. Ah, they will kill him — they will kill 
him, if I speak. 

First Citizen. Of course, if he is guilty, he will hang. 
Murder must be punishetl — even if the perpetrator be 
Harry Dare. 

Second Citizen. Now, old man, tell us, did you rec- 
oo'iiize the murderer ? 



18 

K>fei^enson . I did — I did ! 

Citizens. Who was it ? 

Stevenson. {i7i terrible agonif) It was — it was— Harry 
Dare ! {turns around^ clasps his hands and looks heaven- 
ward.) 

Tableau. 

' Scene V. Governor"^ s Island; on one side a craggy 
rocJi\ on the other the water of the East River. A wind- 
niill at the shore in the rear. The fishery of Harry 
Dare; several accoutrements of his trade lying about. 

Harry, {alone) Morning is fast approaching, and soon 
the sun will bathe the sky in crimson. Sweet Lillie, I 
did not see you last night, and now I feel such an irre- 
sistible longing for you I 

Scene ^^I. John {comes rushing npon the scene breath- 
lessly) Harry, friend — master ! 

liarry. What is it, John, what means this excite- 
ment ? 

John. A crowd of people are coming from toAvn — 
they want to arrest you. 

Harry. Arrest me— for whatl'' 

John. For mui-der, they say. 

Harry, [recoiling) For murder ? 

John. They utter terrible threats. Oh, I'm afraid 
they will commit some Violence ! 

Harry, {calmly) Let them come. Who could make 
such a ridiculous charge against me? 

John. I know not. But fly — ere they come. Take 
your boat — fly down the sound to the English settlement. 
I will keep them at bay, till you are out of danger. 

Harry. John, you mean well. But I am innocent. 
I will remain ! 

John. Here they come. 

Scetie VTJ. Enter two Constables, Citizens, Bernard 
and Arnou,r. 

Eirst Constable. We are seeking Harry Dare. 

Harry. Well, I am he. 

Eirst Constable. We have a Avai-rant for your arrest. 

Harry. Of what am I accused ? 

Second Constable. Of murdering a sailor, named Dan. 

Harry. Who makes this charge ? 

Bernard, {advancing) I do ! 

Harry, {nnth siq^reme contempt) Ah, you ! That ex- 
plains all. Citizens, I am innocent of this crime. But 



19 

T will show j^ou that I respect the law. I will go with 
you in a moment. 

Bernard. The scoundrel ought to be hung without 
any further ceremony, 

Arnoux. Yes, hang him, hang him ! 

Third Citizen. Hang him to the nearest tree ! 

Citizens, (in wild disorder) Hang him ! Hang him ! 

J'^lrst Constable. One moment. Citizens, friends; tlie 
prisoner is in my charge and under my protection. If 
he is guilty, he will not escape just punishment. But 
the first man, who threatens violence to my prisoner 
now, will have to deal with me and my pistol, (places 
him.self In front of Harry and cocks pistol. ) 

Second Constcible. Keep back, friends. 

Fh^st Citizen. That's right, that's the talk. 

First Constable. {toJIar?y) You will have to follow us. 

Harry. I will go with you willingly, {to John) Old 
friend — there is nothing for you to do here now. But 
let me ask one favor. 

John. Whatever it may be, I'll do it. 

Harry. Whatever my arrest may purtend, coming 
through the agency of that man, it means some danger 
to my bride — to Lillie ! 

John. Speak, what shall I do? 

Harry. During my imprisonment do not lose sight 
of her for a moment. Guard her as if she were your 
own — promise me that, and I will be content. 

John, {earnestly) I will — I swear it. 

Harry. Then I am satisfied. Goodbye, John, {shaking 
John^s hand warmly) Farewell ! And now I am at 
your disposal: 

Tableau. 

THE CITKTAIN FALLS. 



ACT III. 

On one side is the house of Van Zandi with the window 
of Lillieh room overlookiny the garden. On the other 
side is a cistern and a bench in front of the house. 

Scene I. Miss Shreutendrock {sits upon the bench hiit- 
ting) Evening has come again and I have not seen my 
beloved Zachariah. Zachariah Stevenson, oh beautiful 



20 



name ! The more I dwell upon and think of my belov- 
ed, the better I love him — the more vanishes my mod- 
esty. I nsed to blush to myself when I thought of a 
man, but now I can think of my Stevenson, of my Zach- 
ariah Stevenson — beautiful name — without the blush 
and with the most exquisite feeling of bliss and exalta- 
tion. Perliaps I might have loved some one long ago, 
perhaps I might have been rid of my excessive modesty 
long ago, if only some man had had sufficient courage to 
speak to me as this dear Zachariah Stevenson did— oh, 
the dear soul. But nobody ever spoke to me that way — 
they knew I was too modest to be spoken to in that 
manner — too modest altogether ! {exit.) 

Soene II. Utiter Van Zandt and HI lie. 

Ulrick. So, my child, you want to speak to me. Here 
we are quite alone and you can talk to your heart's con- 
tent. I knew there was something gloomy upon your 
mind all day. My pet, you can't conceal your emotions 
from me. Now, what is it ? 

Lillle. Father, I wanted to tell you last night, but 
found no opportunity, and this morning— oh, what a 
dreadful change had taken place ! [loeeps.) 

Ulrick. Now don't — don't cliild. You know I cannot 
see you Aveep. 

Lillle. Yesterday, after yon left me in the garden, 
after -you told me to accept no one but the man of my 
own selection — 

Ulrick. Yes, I recollect. 

mile. Harry Dare accidently met ine— -he declared 
his love and I accepted him. 

Ulrick. What? Plarry Dare, the— who was arrested 
for murder ? 

Lillle. 
innocent. 

Ulrick 

lAllie. 

Ulrick 

Lillle. 

Ulrick 



weeping bitterly) Oh father, he is, lie must be 



and 



Poor child, then you love him ? 
I do, father, Avith all my heart. 

Even now, after this has happened; 
I do and always Avill ! 
{aside) Then she will stick to him too, 
if they hang him. {to Llllie) Poor child, poor child. 

Lillle. Pity him rather. Oh, what cruel torture must 
he suffer under this false accusation. But I will not 
stand idly by and see him perish, without making an at- 
tempt to save him. 

Ulrick. liash child, what would vou do ? 



21 

LllUe. Discover the veal perpetrator of this crime, 
bring him to justice and thus clear Harry from all sus- 
picion. 

Ulriek. Impossible, hopeless task. Three witnesses 
say, they saw him do the bloody deed. Ah, I fear you 
love a person unworthy of your affection. 

LilUe. Oh, father, you too turn from him in his hour 
of need, you too condemn him instead of aiding him to 
prove his innocence. 

ZTlrlck. What would you have me do ? 

LUlle. Go with me to-morrow to his prison-cell, ask 
him where he was and what he did last night, whom he 
suspects — in short, do that for him which may be neces- 
sary for his defense — You will do this for me, dear fa- 
ther, will you not ? 

Ulrick. Girl, you may be right after all. There might 
be a conspiracy. Bernard I heard this morning, is a 
profligate, not of the best character. 

L'dlie. And his rival too ! 

Ulrlck. {with a start) True, I never thought of that. 
And Arnoux, the other witness, has been punished for 
stealing — but then there is old Stevenson; he is a truth- 
ful, much respected man; his word can be relied on, 
and he corroborates the stoiy of his son and Arnoux. 

Llllie. We must see him an/l get the story from his 
own lips — oh, there must be some mistake. 

ITlriek. Well, child, be it so. I will go with you to- 
morrow and see \vdiat we can do. 

Llllie. Thank you. And now I will retire to my room 
and pray to God for Harry's delivery. God will not 
forsake him, if he is forsaken by everyone else, {exit 
into the house.) 

ZTlrick. {alone) Poor child, poor child ! I told you to 
listen to your heart's voice, but I did not expect that 
you would choose a murderer. — But is he really guilty 
of that crime? Three witnesses swear to his guilt, it is 
true ; but then he has always borne a good character. 
Why, I have known him myself these last ten years, 
but I never heard anything against him. He never as- 
sociated with suspicious characters; not the slightest 
suspicion has ever been raised against him. He must be 
in quite comfortable circumstances too; he was always 
diligent and knew how to save his earnings. Why then 
should he commit a robbery ? Ah, but there is old Ste- 
venson; he saw it done. There's no getting over that. 



22 

Scene ill. Miss Shreiitendrock enters from the house. 

Miss S. A nice business-man you are, Mr.Van Zandt, 
to leave the front door wide open and to stand here in 
the garden a — moonshining. 

XJlrick. Indeed, I did leave the door cTpen — I will go 
and close the inn now. 

MlssS. I have done it for you already. 

Uh'ick. Thank you. 

Miss S. I will go to my room now — unless you wish 
for anything. 

Zririck. Wait a moment, Miss Shreutendrock. (aside) 
T ought to tell her. She has been a member of the fami- 
ly so long, has been as a mother to my Lillie — and yet- 

Miss S. (aside) What does he mean? He bids 



{aside) What does he mean? He bids me 
stay and then stops in confusion !— Is it possible, that 
he intends to propose to me ? Oh, blissful idea ! 

Ulrick. Miss Shreutendrock, you have been in my 
employ a good many years — 

Miss S. Yes sir, nigh on to fifteen years and always 
did my duty as well as I knew how. (aside) He never 
spoke in that solemn way before. No doubt at all, he 
wants to propo>se to me. Oh, that would be just splendid. 

Ulrick. My daughter has grown up under your moth- 
erly care until now she is a young woman, old enough — 

Miss^S. Old enough to be married, that's a fact. 
(aside) Yes, I'm convinced of it now, he wants to pro- 
pose to me and don't know hoAv to do it. Poor man, I 
will help him. (to CTlrick) And you will bo so lonely 
afterwards, so lonely, that's a fact. 

Ulrick. Well, I wouldn't be so very lonely, seeing 
I have you left 

Miss S. True, Mr. Van Zandt, and seeing that you 
don't know how to express what you want to say, I will 
confess to you, that I have often wondered, why you 
did not ask me to be your wife, yes, I have often won- 
dered at it. 

Ulrick. (af/hast) Wha — Avhat ? Asked \o\\ to be my 
wife ! — 

Miss S. Yes, poor man and since you are so very 
bashful, I will confess to you, I have loved you all this 
time, all these fifteen years. But virtue and silent en- 
durance are at last to find their reward — there Mr. Van 
Zandt, Ulrick — there, you may have me. (falls on his 
breast a,nd embraces him.) 

Ulrick. {recoiling) Well, well, well I 



23 

ML^s S. [astonished) What are you welling about? 

Ulrick. That wasn't what I wanted to say to you at all. 

Miss S. {gas-ping) What? That wasn't what you 
wanted to say to me? 

Ulrick. Why no, j^ou didn't give me a chance to 
speak — I wanted to speak to you about the love — 

Miss S. Well — about the love — 

Ulrick. Of my daughter ! 

Miss S. So, that is the way you want to turn it around 
now, is it. Mr. Van Zandt, you ought to be ashamed of 
yourself, {crying) I didn't deserve such treatment from 
you. Waiting for fifteen years, and then to be disap- 
pointed in such a way. Oh, it's too provoking, too pro- 
voking — I shall never speak to you again sir, never, 
there now ! [elicit in a rage). 

ZTlrick. What's that, she loves me, me ? {breaks into 
a laugh.) I never thought of such a thing. I always 
thought she was too modest to marry. Still, she is a 
good housekeeper, she knows all my little wants and 
habits. It would not be such a bad thing for me after 
all, to marry her. Well, I will think of it. Uxit into 
the house.) 

Scene TV. I^ernard and Arnoux enter stealthily . It 
groiGs quite day'k. 

Arnoux. A storm is drawing near. Soon the rain will 
be pouring down, {distant lightning.) Do you see the 
lightning ? 

Bernard. All the better for our plan. But wait a 
moment. I saw a dark figure crouching behind a tree 
only a few steps from here. 

Atmoux. The devil ! 

Bernard. Do not betray the fact, that we know of 
his presence. I will lay him low presently. It is that 
fellow, John, Harry's companion. 

Arnoux. We must get him out of the way. 

Bernard. We will presently. Then you climb up 
into the giii's room. My wagon is waiting in the road 
right opposite the inn. I will help you carry the girl 
and go inside with her. You jump on the front seat and 
drive as fast as you can towards the river where my 
boat is anchored. Afterwards everything will be easy. 

Thunder and lightning. 

Arnoux. Rely on me. 

Beiviard. (aside) And then, proud hussy, our i-eckon- 
ing will come. 



24 

Arnotcx. Ltook ont I That fellow approaches ! 
. I>e7'nar(h {retreMing) Back 1 I will give him a dose 
of this, {shows a slung shot.) 

Scene J^. Thunder and lightning. 

Enter John. I saw them approach the house in a sus- 
picious manner. They must be up to some deviltry. I 
think I will wake up the inmates of the house, {'walks 
tovHtrds the house.) l^ernard raises the slungshot and 
'inlth one blow fells John to the ground. John gives a loud: 
groan and then lies motionless. 

It begins to rain. 

Arnoux. I hope no one heard that groan. Look there — 
she has heard it, she opens the window. 
' iBernard. Good, I have a splendid plan, step aside. 
. jScene YI. Lillie {in a night-robe., opens the window 
and listens.) What was that ? {louder) Who is out there ? 

Bernard, {imitating Johri's voice) It is I, John Tinker. 

IMlie. Harry's servant — what do you Avish ? 

Bernard. I have news for you from him and a letter. 

Lillie. A letter — thank heaven — I will come down. 
{closes vnndo'w) Thunder and lightning. 

Bernard. Now we will seize her as soon as she comes 
out. Here's a gag. She must not give a sound of alarm. 

JMlie enters from, the house. The tvjo villains seize her, 
she gives a piercing scream, they over^jower her and carry 
her away. Thunder and lightning . John {ashiadreani.) 
That scream ! oh, my liead— Harry ! Lillie! {tries to 
raise himself, succeeds j>artly and then falls in a dead 
swoon.) 

Ch((nge of Scene. 

Scene YII. Prison. On one side is the cell of Harry, 
in which he /.s- locked. The cell is ojyen toivards the au- 
dience. 

Harry, {in his cell) John lias not been here yet. 
Something must have happened to him or perhaps to 
her. Maybe she is in danger. If I were fiT^e I might 
come to her assistance. Now I begin to know, what it , 
is to be bereft of liberty. For myself I would not care 
so much, but this uncertainty about the fate of my be- 
loved is doubly galling^ because I cannot fly to her suc- 
cor. Perhaps Tom, the keeper, will soon return. He 
promised me to go down to Van Zandt's inn to-day and 
inquire about Lil lie's safety. Perhaps he will bring me 
good news. John promised me faithfully to bring me 



25 

word of her every day, and I know he wouhl have done 
so— had not some awful fate overtaken him and — her — 

Scene YIIT. Tom enters. 

Harry. Speak, man, were you down at the inn ? 

Tom. Aye, poor fellow, I was, and sorrowful news 
I bring you. 

Harry. What is it — speak — don't torture me. 

Tom. She's gone. 

Harry, [dumhforoided) Gone! Where? 

Tojii. Kidnapped^ niglit before last ! 

Harry. Great God, by whom ? 

T>m. Alas, no one knows. 

Harry. Bernard, this is your work ! But John — have 
you seen John? 

Tom. I could not find him anywhere. 

Harry. Ah, then perhaps it is not yet too late ! 

Tom. Heaven grant it, sir. 

Harry. Tom, you are an honest fellow^ — you see my 
anxiety — my bitter, bitter woe — 

Tom. I see it, poor fellow, and my heart goes out to you. 

Harry. You can help me, Tom. 

Torn.. I ? 

Harry. Set me free, and I promise you by all that's 
sacred, by my mother's grave, I will be back as soon as 
I have saved her. 

Tom. Ah, I believe you would — honestly, I do. But 
to let you go would be deliberately breaking the oath of 
office which I took when I assumed my position and, 
man, would you ask me to break my oath? 

Harry. True, I forgot. No, no, I do not wish to 
purchase my salvation at the price of your perdition ! 
(drops on his bed in despair.) There is no hope then — no 
hope at all, except through John ! {buries his /ace with 
his hands.) 

Tom. Poor fellow, I feel sorely tempted to break my 
oath — he is such a good, frank fellow. But I would 
never dare to show my face again after that. Poor fel- 
low, poor fellow — I really don't know what to do. (e.xit 
shaking his head.) 

Harry, {suddenly starting up) Escape — I haven't 
thought of it yet — or rather I have scorned the idea. 
But now, for Lillie's sake, I would even incur the sus- 
picion of cowardice. Let me see, if it is possible, {m.oimts 
upon his bed and looks through the grated windoiv.) 



26 

Great heaven, there is John iiliiig away at the iron bars ! 
Ah! I feel new hope filling my heart; he mnst have 
some good news for me. P'aithful fellow, and his head 
is all bandaged up — he must have been wounded, {^peers 
thy^ough the grating at his door.) Tom is far away; I 
will give him some sign of recognition, {calls guardedly) 
John — hey — John ! — He stops — he hears me. Now he 
goes to work again, the file is nearly through —there he 
inserts a crowbar — the grating breaks, he comes ! 

Scene IX^. John enters through the "iclndoir. 

John [en ihracinq Harry.) Master ! Friend ! 

Harry. Faithful boy ! But Lillie ?— 

John. Alas, she was kidnapped and carried away. 

Harry. By whom ? 

John. By Bernard — the miserable dog. 

Harry. I knew it was his work. But you ? — 

John. I did all in my power. 

Harry. Oli, I am sure of that. 

John. They beat me with a slungshot till I lost my 
senses, but upon recovering consciousness, I followed up 
their trail. It led down to the river. 

Harry. And do you know where they are now ? 

John. I do. They brought her to an old blockhouse 
near Elizabethtown. There she is now, guarded by In- 
dians and desperadoes. Upon ascertaining that fact, I 
had my wounds dressed and came hither at once to set 
you free. 

Harry. My noble friend ! 

John. But come quickly. Let us escape ere ray 
presence is discovered. 

Harry. Oh, great heaven ! Tom returns ! Quickly hide. 

John hides hinise.lf in the corner hy the door. 

tSce^te Jl. Hnter Tom. 

Tom. I am positive I heard conversation in his cell. 
All is not right. Here, ho, Harry ! 

Harry. Well, Tom, what do you wish ? 

Tom. Who is with you in your cell "i 

Harry. Why, no one. 

Tom. I thought I heard some one speak. 

Harry. I may have spoken to myself. 

Tom. Nay, nay, that's not your wont. It Is my duty 
-—I must enter and see for myself. 

Harry, [aside) Oh, great heaven ! 



27 

John, [pnlls his pi'^tol and motions to Harry.) 

Tom. {opens IIarry''s cell and enters) As soon as Tom 
enters, <John takes hold of his arm and aims his 2nstol at 
Tom^s heart.) 

John. One word, ont^ motion and I fire ! {to Harry) 
Go, Flarry — I will keep liim here at bay till morning ! 

Harry. But you. They will punish you ! 

John. Go ! Do you want to ruin all ? — Go ! 

Harry. In God's name then — it is the only way. I 
go — God bless you, God bless you ! 

John. Go ! 

Harry, {e.rif throuyh the ii'lndoir.) 

John and Tom retain their positions riyidly. 

THE CURTAIX FALLS. 



ACT TV. 

Scene I. Woods near Hlizabethtotrn. An old hloek- 
house on one side. Wa^'riors sit around a carnpfire in the 
centre. At a siyn from Hapahoe, their chief, they get 
ap. The music plays a wild dance. The Indians dance 
around the fire and then disperse. Ilapahoe remains. 

Scene II. Bernard enters. Now, Rapahoe, lead the 
paleface maiden hither. I wish to speak to her. 

Rapahoe. Well, paleface, {exit into the blockhouse.) 
Bernard, {alone) The time for useless entreaties is 
past. Now I will use more energetic means. I must 
break her spirits. If she refuses to accede to my honor- 
able requests, then §he shall succumb to my superior 
force. Ha ! Am I to be thwarted by this feeble girl ? 
Nev^er ! I have it now in my power to realize my most 
ardent wishes and by all that's damned, I will do it ! 

Scene III Rapahoe leads Lillit upon the scene. 

Bernard motions to Rapahoe to depart. 

Hxit Rapahoe. 

Bernard, {aside) Now, proud hussy, we will square 
accounts. And yet I tremble, for she looks like a queen. 
[to Lillie) Well, have von considered what vour course 
will be? 



28 

'.■.LiJlie. There is no liecessity for me to consider any- 
thing. I gave you my answer yesterday. I will never 
he the wife of such as you. 

Bernard, {angry) You will not? And why not, pray ? 
\: LiUAe,. Why not ? Do you Avish me to tell you ? 
. . Btrnard. Yes, I really would like to know. 

Lillie. Well, then listen. Because I would sooner 
die the most terrible death, than be the wife of such a 
dastardly scoundrel as you are. 

Bernard, .{unable to control his rage and dravnng Ms 
dagger) Hell and furies ! For this insult you shall suffer ! 
{amis the dagger at her heart.) 

Billle. Strike, coward, strike ! {eyes hini disdainfully) 

Bernard {drops his arm) I cannot. Fool that I am, 
Avhy should I kill her? Very well, my fine lady. If you 
wiU not be my wife, jon shall be my mistress ! 

Jjillie. You would not dare ! 

Bernard. I wouldn't? Well, we shall see. {ichistles; 
The Indians enter noiselessly from all sides, among them 
Bapahoe.) {to Lillie) See; I will have you returned to 
your prison now. There I will visit you presently. 
First I Avill bring you to submission, and then I will 
hand, you over to the tender mercies of these Indians. 

Lillie. Oh, heaven I 

Bernard. Aha ! Now you change your attitude of 
proud defiance. Oh, I knew you would. 

Lillie. {gathering her strength) Never coward, do your 
worst. Heaven will not forsake me. God will not per- 
niit such devilish designs as yours to prosper ! ( While 
Lillie speaks the crouching for) n of Harry is seen behind 
the brui^hirork touched by the moon.) 

Bernard {derisively). He wouldn't ? AYell, well, we'll 
see. {toRapahoe) Conduct her back to her prison, {aside} 
I will go and see Arnoux. He shall assist me in this bus- 
iness, for I really don't like her defiant attitude, {exit.) 

Bapahoe motions to some of the bra res to lead Lillie 
array; she is led of . L^rit Indians. 

^jSeene IV. Harry, {advancing behind Bapahoe.) Oh 
heaven, forgive this sacrifice, but it is necessary. I 
must kill this Indian, change his dress for mine and in 
that disguise thwart that villains plans, {clutches Bapa- 
hoe hy the throat and throws him dovyn. Bapahoe how- 
ever manages to free his throat from Harry's grasp and 
then with an iron grip> holds Harry doirn.) 



I 



29 

Ihirry. {In denj^air) Heaven ! All is lost ! [suddenly 
recor/nlzing llapahoe.) Why — Rapalioe ! 

Ilapahoe {loho is m the act of braining Harry viith 
his toniahaiok) Yoii know me ? {looks at Harry closely) 
Harry — Harry Dare ! releases his hold and assists Har- 
ry up) Much heap luck I know you — else {brandishes 
his toniahicwk.) 

Harry. It's you, Rapalioe, Oh, then all is well ! \^ou 
remember, when I saved your life ? 

jRapahoe. Many moons gone by since then, but Ra- 
palioe remembers. 

Harry. I would never have reminded you of it. But 
now I must. You then swore that whenever opportuni- 
ty offered, you would return the favor. 

Rapahoe. Ra])ahoe always keeps word. 

Harry. Well, then, I have come to ask the favor now. 

liapahoe. What do you want ? 

Harry. Promise to do as I request. 

Rapahoe. I promise ! 

At this point Bernard, and Arnoux appear in the rear 
of the bl')ekhous('. 

Harry. Deliver the girl you hold captive to me ! 
liapahoe. {i^eGoiUng) Ha ! 
Harry. Remember your promise. 
Ilapahoe. Come — you shall have her. 

Scene J'^. Rernard and Arnoux advance., and when 
Harry and Rapahoe approach the blockhouse., they cov- 
er them with their pistol,^. 

Bernard . Hold, traitor ! 

Harry, {throvs hijnself npo)i Bernard and icrestUng 
with him throv^s- him to the gronnd) 

Bernard. Damnation ! I am wounded — oh ! 

Arnonx. (fghts vuth Rapahoe. Both discharge their 
weapons at the same time and bothfcdl mortally icounded.) 

The Indians enter from all sides. 

Berncird. Too late — I die— (c?i6,s'.) 

Harry, {assisting Rapahoe) How are you, my friend ? 

Indians croiod around Rapcdioe. 

Rapahoe. {gasping) I go to happy hunting grounds. 
There is the girl — take her. 

Harry, {opens the door to the blockhouse. Lillie enters 
ani falls sobbing on Harry'' s breast.) 

H rrry. My sweetheart ! 



30 

Eapahoe, {to the liidians) Let tliem go. Don't liarm 
tliem [—{Harry takes his hand) Good-bye — (dies) 
: TaUeau. 

THE CURTAIN FALLS. 



ACT V. 

In front of the eourt-house in New A^nsterdam. 
-Scene I. Tom leads John manacled to^ the court-house. 

Citizens cross the scene and enter court-house. 

John. Wait a moment, please, before entering the 
conrt-room. I see my sweetheart approaching yonder. 
I would like to say good-bye to her. 

Tom. All right. But don't try to escape, I'll keep 
my eye on you. 

John. Escape ? Pshaw ! I wouldn't escape if I could. 

Tom. English law prevails here now. And the Eng- 
lish hang a man on very slight grounds. 

John. Don't be afraid. I'll not escape. 

Scene II. Kittle enters and falls on JohrPs breast 
sobbin(/ cojtvulsivelj/. 

luttie. Poor John, poor John ! I heard they had you 
instead of Harry Dare, and that they would hang you 
instead of him. Oh, John, John, this will break my 
heart, {^i^eeps bitterly.) 

John. There now, darling, don't cry so. You make 
my eyes water in spite of me. It isn't quite as bad as 
you think. Hari-y will be back before they hang me 
and til en — 

Kittle. But, if he should not come back ? 

John. He will ! (aside) Unless — well in that case I 
do not desire to live, but will share his fate. 

7hm. Come now, young man. We can't keep the 
court waiting for us. 

. John. Yev J weU, I'm coming. Courage, Kittie. Have 
faith in God, who ever protects the righteous. Some- 
thing in my heart tells me, that all will come out rigtit. 
Good-bye, darling, good-bye — till I see you again, {em- 
braces Kittle who cllnffs to him: until he a.^cend,-^ the steps 



81 

ter^than vnli'T^ ''°'"' ^"^^ 7"'' '"^^'^ ^our master bet- 
tei tlian you love me. And vet, if you were different 
from what you are, I would uot love you ^1 do! 
Scene III. Enter Stevenson. 

lt IS my guilty conscience. Nowliere oin I find rest 

TelTZ ZJr.^"' "••'''"" '^^.^■''''^'•t^ Tell thetruh'.i 
lell the tiuth ! I cannot still it, cannot escape it T 
have tried to pray to the Almighty, but my Ihs refuse 
The • ■'IP^J'^'-fy ^«7 he'irt ioaths at mv h iqtiity 
rhere is the court-house. Alas, perhaps they are^eve^n 

elth 7^"? ''°°'' ^V\' r'^'"'-^' conctemniig him to 

eath for a crime which he never committedf a crime 

my son comm.tted-my son ! Oh, it is too horS- 

ihe trmh"'' ^/^r'" 'r '••'^'^ ""^ ='^'^"' -J*^"™ l>y telUng 
f IL VJ! The orchestra i,l.a,,s a sweet melody. Ah, but 

*' w-\ Ylr°'!''' ''^"S ™.y s«n -my only child. («7roL>,l! 

the'^i^n^cei':*''"' "^ '""""' ^ '"''■'-^ ''^ ^o" '» Pr-eet 
|<««6«.o« (,,;„fe o» A,:., knees) This prayer, oh heaven ' 
^ittie. Guide the hearts of the judges, who are even 

now considering his fate, that they mfv be mei^iful 
St-evenson. Amen ! Amen ! 
JCittie. Or let those, whose hearts are steened in- 

gmlt, step forward and confess the truth ' 

Stevenson (rises abruptly) Amen ! Amen ! Girl thon 

lias touched me with thy praver ! The vei falls from 

™«h f-'ri/tM/;r'^r';f'" "^ answered^itm 't:i?tr 

c™ Fvel tl«.,V»th' "".matter what the consequen- 

mo,\^liCT T' } '^'P ""° >'''"''<'•• court-room and 
proclaim the^ truth ! (exit into the conrt-home.) 

see. {.follovs Steren.-»ni.} 

Scene IV. Enter LiUie and Ilarr,/. 

Harry And now, dearest, farewell. Return to vour 

bid vo,r"" ?""'' f, "''- *''"*'^*'"' f'--l -mp'els' m 
10 Did you now farewell. 

jmie. Must it be then ? Is there no other way ? 
^rrny. He took my place to enable me to come to 



32 

your rescue. Even now his life may be in danger. I 
must, I will relieve him. You know what they told us 
down at the river. He is being tried now. 

Lillie {striving to retain her composure) Then Harry, 
kiss me once more, before you go. 

Harry, {kissing Lillie'' s forehead) Good-bye, darling 
— {embraces her once more) good-bye ! 

Lillie. {almost fainting) Good-bye ! 

^cene Y. As Lillie and Harry part., the door to the 
conrt-house is throimi open and John ru.^hes out followed 
by Kittie. 

The scene fills with citizens. 

JJlrick and Miss Shretitendrock enter from the side. 

John. What do I see ? — Harry and Miss Lillie too ! 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 

Harry {e'lnbracing John) You are free ? 

Joh7i. Yes, and you too ! All is as clear as daylight 
now. It was Bernard who murdered the sailor. Old 
Stevenson, who saw the deed done, has confessed all. 
We are free, free ! But where is the scoundrel ? 

Harry. He is no more. God has punished him. -^am^ 

Citize7is. Long live Harry Dare ! Hurrah ! 

UlricJc. {icho has meamohile embraced his daughter) 
All is well now. {unites their hands) Children take my 
blessing — be happy ! And in taking my blessing, let 
me introduce you to your future mother, Miss Shreuten- 
drock, who will become Mrs. Van Zandt on the same 
day on which Lillie will become Mrs. Dare. 

Miss S. Oh, you shock my modesty. 

John. Well, if everybody is going to get married, 
then let me introduce you to the future Mrs. Tinker. 
{takes J\ittie''s hand.) 

THE CUIITAIN FALLS. 

Finis. 



IBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




016 103 789 8 



